


A Villain's Vow

by NightDivinerInTheShoppe



Category: Servamp (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Cigarettes, Depressing Themes, Foul Language, Happy Birthday, Heavy Angst, JUST KIDDING?, Withdrawal, feel sorry for him, spoilers for chapter 63: Purebred Villain, stop the touma hate, trigger warning: smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 23:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13328688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightDivinerInTheShoppe/pseuds/NightDivinerInTheShoppe
Summary: An in-depth telling of Touma's story through his own cold eyes. This is another attempt at capturing a character's point of view. Some details may be off, for which I apologize.





	A Villain's Vow

I always thought of the day when I would finally be away from my parents and in a place of my own. Every child has this dream, but from my perspective, it wasn't a dream. Rather, it was a plea.

  
Every day, I was abused. Every day, I lived in grave fear of each day to come. Every day, I longed for a second glance of warmth and appreciation from _someone_ , even if it was the devil himself. Yet in circumstances as hopeless as I lived through, I realized there was no such entity to rely on.

  
However, I am not going to admit that I was a desperate, cowardly beggar at my parents' feet. Even if my only possession was my thoughts, that was all that I needed. Because I had a mind, I could rely on _myself_.

  
I took matters into my own hands like cigarettes. Does this mean it was easy? Let me ask you - when you were in elementary school, didn't you make that vow to never ever smoke? You sat in the school auditorium and watched people's lives blow away like smoke as they fell victim to the evil, horrible drug. You told yourself, "I could never do that. I want to be successful. I want to make everyone proud."

  
As you grew up, you noticed adults smoking, then a few of your own friends. It was only natural that the lighter was soon placed in your hands.In that moment, you reflect back on what you've been told by elementary school counselors. If you just slip this little roll of paper and nicotine in your mouth and light it, you could be just like one of those people they always warned you about - the jobless hobos, the kicked out teens, the abusive parents.

  
Among all the voices telling you that the best thing to do is to "say no," there is the driving force known as pain. You are a young teenager, or a young adult, and you are in a sea of peril. You ponder for a moment.

  
If you are like me, you say, "Fuck it," and you swipe your thumb against the flint wheel without a second thought - you have thought enough already:  
What if I didn't have to live with my parents anymore?

  
_What if the scent of alcohol and ashes dissipated for good? What if I could no longer smell that shit on a shouting tongue?_  
_What if my dad could stop slashing a broken beer glass at my left eye with his mighty right hand? What if I could even just dodge his attacks?_  
_What if my mom stopped calling me "ashtray," stopped flinging that cancerous dust into my open wounds?_  
_What if...my parents just died? What if I could kill them?_

  
I won't go into all the details about what I did to "extinguish their flame," I won't even tell you how I staged the murder to look like an accident. Let's just say that at 15 years old, I was on my own with a lit cigarette at the corner of my mouth.

  
Of course, I didn't _really_  want to start smoking, just like I _really_ didn't want to be on my own. Yet, both circumstances were inevitable.

  
I thought that, after I was free of my parents' control, I would never have to live among spilled ashes and fuming butts ever again. In fact, I was confident in my ability to "say no." I even fantasized about preaching my story to students all across Japan, excluding certain details, of course. The idea that I, Touma Taishi, could _matter_  to millions of people was the only "dream" that I ever had among the countless "thoughts." Naturally, I became obsessed with this goal...

  
...for a few days, until I realized that the new air around me smelled overwhelmingly clean. Something was missing. In my new apartment (which I was able to purchase using my parents' life insurance), I would lay back on the couch and sniff for any traces of smoke, but I only caught traces of blood from how deeply I would inhale. That's when it became clear to me - I needed the stench of cigarettes to linger once more, just _once_  more. With each new pack, this is what I told myself. One more. One more...

  
...until I found myself heaped in a pile of used butts littered on the sickly green carpet. I'd stare at the cieling and constantly ask myself why I was doing this, why I craved nicotine so badly. There was one answer which haunted my mind: not once had I felt any sorrow over the loss of my parents, but what if this unquenchable thirst for their forbidden fruit was a sign that I did indeed miss them?

  
Sometimes I would bang my head against the kitchen counter because I couldn't forgive myself if this was the truth. Other times, I would curl up and bawl on the floor in submission of my so-called grief, crying out for my mama, my papa. In my hysteria, I would imagine both of them flocking to my side to wipe my tears and cradle me, whisper in my ear that everything would be okay, that I could get over my addiction. That was how I learned that I didn't really miss my parents - I missed what they could have been, like I had every day that they were alive.

  
Really, nothing had changed at all. I abused myself. I put myself in grave fear of each day to come. I could never look at myself with a glance of warmth or appreciation - I had become the devil himself.


End file.
